The World Or Nothing
by DracoPendragon
Summary: Fallen Cas songfic based on 'The World or Nothing' by Deaf Havana Some Destiel if you squint really really hard, like as hard as Cas


Castiel found himself in a city he knew to be close to the bunker. He felt deaf, his hearing no longer extending as far as it had, and he could no longer see far into the night's darkness. Blazes of light suddenly illuminated the skies and he look up. There were his brethren, falling from heaven – and it was all his fault.

He stood watching them in horror until the sky grew dark again and he depended more on the streetlights lining the city path to see where he was headed than he had ever done before. Suddenly, the world lurched alarmingly beneath his feet and he felt disorientated, as though he'd lost all sense of direction. His stomach growled in huger. He ignored it. His head was pounding and all he wanted to do was lie down.

That was when he realised he didn't have anywhere to go, didn't have a bed of his own to lie down in. He was locked out of the one place that had been his home since his creation, and he had the bunker but that wasn't _home_, not to him. That was Sam and Dean's, the place they'd made into a home for themselves. It wouldn't be home for Castiel, just somebody else's space he was occupying. He would have to change that.

He walked on, intending to head to the bunker. One glance around at his location told him he was not safe: he was human now, and more vulnerable. And he hated it. Even though he should have known where he was going, he made a wrong turn into a dark back alley where he was approached by a man who grabbed hold of him with one hand (the other was occupied with a bottle of beer) and started shouting in his face. Castiel inhaled deeply, remembering he had to because he was now human, and the stench of cigarettes made him choke. He pushed the drunken man back, feeling alcohol splash onto him, sending a burning rush of impulses around his nervous system, something he had never paid intense attention to. He ran out of the alleyway back into the street and stumbled away, feeling as though he was being mocked. He felt tired and scared about everything.

* * *

The bunker had been empty when Castiel had arrived there, so, not wishing to intrude on Dean's home when he returned – and Castiel knew Dean would return – the fallen angel had taken to living on the streets. He'd left the brothers a simple note, not wanting it to seem like he did not care about them and to make sure they knew he was okay. It read like this:

_Dean and Sam,_

_ I am sorry. For everything. I could not stop Metatron, and I have failed you. I am well, but have lost my grace and am now human. I will not be here when you arrive – do not look for me. It is not safe and I do not wish to endanger you further._

_ Yours, Castiel_

* * *

During his time as a human, on the streets of a town close to where he knew Dean and Sam still had residence, Castiel had noticed that this current generation of humanity were self-destructive: many drank lots of alcohol, far too much than was good for them; others ate lots of food, mostly unhealthy and fattening; everyone was different but it was not all too often he found a person that did not indulge in something that would eventually lead to an untimely death. And they all seemed so bored. Few were content with their lives, and everyone else just wanted more. None of them realised how many times they had scraped an apocalypse, how lucky they were. They killed themselves slowly and moaned while they did it. It confused him greatly.

* * *

'Cas? Is that you?'

Sometimes, Castiel would return to the bunker and check on the Winchesters – they never realised. Not until now. He had been caught by Sam as he was about to leave for his bed of concrete. Turning around, hands raised in surrender, he replied.

'Yes, Sam. It's me.'

The shotgun Sam had been aiming at Castiel's face lowered and the tall man beamed. 'Good to see you, man. Where have you been?'

'I have been on the streets. I stayed away because I did not wish to endanger you.'

Sam was about to reply but was broken off by a familiar voice coming from behind him. 'Sammy? What is it?' Castiel watched as Dean appeared in the doorway, knife at the ready. Upon seeing Cas, Dean's eyes widened and the knife fell to the floor.

'Cas?' Dean turned to Sam, looking bewildered. The younger brother shrugged in confusion and Castiel noticed he had not cut his hair since the last time the fallen angel had seen him. 'Where were you? When we got here, we found your note and that was three months ago, Cas, what happened?'

'I lost my grace, Dean. And I disgraced Heaven. Didn't you see my brethren falling?' Castiel shouted before he looked down, tears stinging his eyes. 'They were hunting me, and I could not put you in more danger.'

'That wasn't your fault, Metatron had-'

'No, Dean, no excuses. It was all my fault.' Castiel knew Dean cared, understood that, but he wasn't going to pin the blame on anyone else.

* * *

Dean had insisted that Castiel joined him that evening, so they could talk things over. They had talked, Castiel about how, despite being human, he did not understand the species, and what he had done whilst he'd been away; and Dean about the last trial, Sam nearly dying, how they had been working to try and solve the angel problem even though they didn't know how.

Now they lay in silence on Dean's bed. One of Dean's hands was messing with Cas' hair, and Cas had buried his head into Dean's warm chest, feeling the steady rise and fall as the taller man breathed beneath him, a continuous sign that he was alive and real.

'You okay?' Dean asked him.

Castiel nodded slowly. 'To tell you the truth, I'm just scared, Dean. It's difficult to get used to, being human. But I am not alone. I have you and Sam.'

'I get it, Cas. At least we're not alone.'

Soon, dean began whispering in his ear, slow and melodic. Castiel recognised the tune as 'Hey Jude', the song that he knew Dean's mother had sung to him when he had been a young child.

'You have a beautiful voice,' Cas whispered.

'Thanks,' Dean replied, blushing. 'Sometimes it's good to sing. I'll sometimes just hum a tune in my head for a while, until I believe I can do it.'

Nothing else was said that night. Dean continued crooning into Castiel's ear, and slowly the fallen angel began to fall asleep, believing that he was finally somewhere he could call home and that the future was a bright place.


End file.
